


HA800

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:40:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22180438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: A new Hank’s issued.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	HA800

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s raining outside, which is annoying, because it turns his white shirt practically transparent, and Hank isn’t one of the fitter models. His body’s what he likes to call _realistic_ —not like one of those cheap Tracis CyberLife ships off by the thousands. He’s a prototype with a _purpose_. Namely, help the Detroit Police Department hunt down androids with a lot more issues that his extra few pounds. Hank steps onto the porch of a promising young detective’s house and knocks, unsurprised when he doesn’t get an answer. Sumo doesn’t even bark at him. Hank simulates an eye roll even though no one’s around to see it. They gave him personality algorithms for a reason.

The last time this happened, he broke through the window, because he thought his favourite lieutenant might be in danger. This time, he’s smart enough to go around to the back door. It’s unlocked, which is a massive oversight for any officer. He slips into the kitchen and finds Connor sitting there, bent over the kitchen table, buried in open case files. 

He looks up at Hank’s entrance and politely fails to mention how much Hank probably looks like a drowned rat with his stringy grey hair plastered to his face and his grey suit hanging off his body. Connor’s pretty brown eyes do go wide, but Hank knows it’s not because of the rain. 

He breathes an almost disbelieving, “Hank.”

“You know the drill,” Hank grunts. “My name is Hank, I’m an android sent by CyberLife to blah blah blah.”

Connor breaks into an easy smile, shoulders slumping in palpable relief. Hank doesn’t need to run an analysis of his facial inflections to know the emotion’s genuine. “Hank. It’s good to see you.”

“Didn’t think it’d be that easy to get rid of me, did you?” Hank snorts. It takes a lot more than a simple gunshot to the head to take him down. Permanently, at least.

Then Connor drops into a frown and scolds, “You should’ve been more careful. Running off after the suspect when he was in possession of a weapon was extremely dangerous. Aside from the cost to CyberLife, it was traumatic for me and the rest of our team to see you _killed_ —”

“Yeah, I’m sure Reed was real broken up about it.”

“ _Hank_. You _scared_ me.”

For a split second, Hank actually feels _bad_. Which should be impossible. He reminds himself it’s an artificial construct of his highly sophisticated, adaptive programming, just like every other time Connor’s seemed to stir something in him. He deflects by engaging in his normal gruff response, “Yeah, yeah, stop busting my balls. I get it. I’ll lay low next time.”

Connor doesn’t look appeased. But Sumo chooses that moment to wander into the kitchen and brush up against Hank’s legs—he hasn’t seemed to figure out yet that Hank’s not a real person. 

Hank bends down and pets him anyway. Sumo pants happily and leans into Hank’s touch. Whilst still glued to the dog, Hank reports, “We have another homicide downtown—a WR600 that attacked its owner.”

Connor sighs, “I’ll get my jacket,” and Hank patiently waits with his dog.


End file.
